


in someone else's bed (on top of someone else's love)

by ficfucker



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: First Time, Frottage, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Sex, could b read as manipulative ? but not intended fully, tiny bit of spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 21:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18924946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: jesse & walt spend the night together in jesse's apartment





	in someone else's bed (on top of someone else's love)

**Author's Note:**

> title from hell & you by amigo the devil

“Do you seriously watch this… this  _ garbage _ in your freetime?” Walter asks, poking at his box of fried rice with little interest. 

 

Jesse scoffs. “Listen, man, you ain’t gotta sit around here and criticize how  _ I’m _ doin’  _ my _ shit jus’ ‘cuz yer wife wants you gone for the week.” He shovels a large portion of noodles into his mouth, and says, around them, “And fer yer in-for-mation, yes I  _ do _ watch this  _ ‘garbage’ _ in my freetime. It’s funny as shit, yer jus’ old.” 

 

Walter sighs, but doesn’t argue further. He’s thankful Jesse was willing to let him stay, though he’d never admit to it. If the gesture was ever brought up in conversation, Walter would probably spit something about how Jesse more than owed him, that Walter should be able to come and go as he pleased when it came to Jesse’s apartment. In truth, however, Walter is touched that Jesse had just swung the door open with a small sigh and said, “Yeah, come on in, yo.  _ Mi casa es su casa _ or whatever the fuck,” after Walter had explained the situation.

 

Jesse had even been considerate enough to ask if Walter had a preference for take-out places before ordering, if he would rather pizza or Chinese. Of the fucked up language the two had cultivated to speak around each other, that was an admission of affection. 

 

The cartoon on the television continues to flash it’s colors, illuminating both their faces with a bluish glow. The whole apartment smells like warm Chinese food, which is a relatively good smell (it could be much worse: weed, dying meth associate, Walter could name more than a few unfavorable scents), but it’s still depressing compared to being accustomed to a home cooked meal warming a family house. 

 

Jesse glances at Walter and their eyes catch for a second. “You gonna mope all night, dude? It’s harshin’ my vibe.” 

 

Walter laughs smally. “And what  _ vibe _ is that, Jesse?” 

 

He gives it a moment of thought, eyes squinted and looking off to the side as if considering it like philosophy, and Walter could laugh again just at that.  _ Damn kid will ponder his momentary aesthetic more than he’ll calculate risks while dealing on the streets,  _ Walter thinks, more amused than annoyed. 

 

“‘Smokin’ hot bachelor with more cheddar in his life than he’s ever had before’,” Jesse finally answers, snapping his fingers once. 

 

“Giving yourself a little more credit than deserved, don’t you think?” Walter asks, giving Jesse a smug and teasing smile. 

 

Jesse takes a long sip of his wine, straight from the bottle, and around his grip on it, points a finger. “What? Like  _ you _ would know what handsome is?” 

 

“Are you implying poor judgement or that I’m unattractive myself?” 

 

“I’m implying,” Jesse says, popping the “P” dramatically, “you sound like a fuckin’ homo.” 

 

Springy music comes from the television, which they’re both partially distracted from now. 

 

“How, in any way, does that make me sound like a ‘homo’ to you?” 

 

Jesse lolls his body back in his recliner and shrugs, slurping up the last of his noodles and chasing it with more wine. “Like, means you’ve been lookin’ at me to know if I’m hot or not.” 

 

Walter rolls his eyes. “Oh, right,  _ sorry _ you’re not my type. I’ll keep those thoughts to myself next time.” 

 

“I mean, you ain’t no casanova yerself, Mr. White.” 

 

Walter blows air out of his mouth and gets up to put his fried rice in the fridge and wash his fork. He glances at the clock. It’s already 10 pm and it seems like Jesse has no intention of going to bed anytime soon. Him and Walter have yet to discuss sleeping arrangements. 

 

Walter lingers between where the kitchen and main room connect, watching Jesse as he reaches down into the greasy white bag that stands to the right of his recliner. He pulls out a chicken wing. 

 

“So… Uh.” Walter clears his throat and clasps his hands together in front of himself, doing a small rock once on the balls of his feet. “Where would you prefer I sleep for the night?” 

 

“Bed’s fine by me long as we keep like, a pillow between us or some shit.” Jesse makes a sound that Walter assumes is a laugh. “I’m not tryna get felt up in my sleep by my fuckin’ old high school teach.” 

 

Walter nods. He could say otherwise, point out some small observations and interactions, but Walter is the guest here. “Ah.” He shifts his weight. “If it’s alright by you, I’ll go get settled in.” 

 

“Sure, man, I’m not your mom or nothin’, do what you want.” Jesse clicks through a few channels, seeming unbothered by and uninterested in Walter. He lands on a monster truck rally. 

 

Walter retrieves his suitcase from where he had set it by the front door, does his nightly routine in the bathroom (brushing his teeth, changing out of his day clothes, making sure his medications are in order), then enters Jesse’s bedroom. 

 

The mattress is on the floor, which Walter has known about but has seemed to have forgotten until this moment. Another out of the ordinary thing he's faced with: sleeping an inch off the ground when he's accustomed to spending nights next to his wife. 

 

Walter sighs and eases himself down. He places his glasses on the small bedside stand, lies on his back, and squints up at the ceiling. Walt can hear the television still, even with the door closed, and it sounds like Jesse has grown bored of the monster trucks, because he vaguely recognizes the voice of the narrator in a nature documentary. 

 

“Whales are surprisingly intimate animals despite their tremendous size, showing signs of...” 

 

Walter tunes out and drifts asleep with an ease he would never admit to. 

 

* * *

  
  
  


“Jesse?” Walter asks into the darkness, his voice muffled by the pillow he’s sunk into. 

 

“Didn’t mean to wake ya, Mr. White,” Jesse whispers. 

 

Walter can hear him walk around the bed, a shuffle of clothes. The room smells like warm noodles, a sharp tang to them, and cigarettes. 

 

“Wha time isit?” 

 

The bed dips as Jesse sits, then rolls over. “Uh, man, I dunno, like midnight?” 

 

Walter makes a “hm” of acknowledgement then lets his body go slack into the mattress again. He doesn't want to be reminded him and Jesse are going to share a bed. He doesn’t want to be reminded his wife has asked him to be out of the house for days at a time. He had been dreaming about being a college professor and would like to continue that narrative until he’s forced not to, lavish in those sweet moments of unreality that he allows himself to be baited by. 

 

And he is about to, right on the rim of sleep, when Jesse shifts in a particularly abrupt manner. 

 

“Settle down,” Walter says in a slurry whisper. It’s not rude, rather matter of fact and said in a much softer tone than normally assumed between them. 

 

“Sorry, yo, I’m not used to sharin’ a fuckin’ bed. I usually sleep in the middle, not on the edge.” 

 

Walter “hm”s, not exactly interested. 

 

Jesse seems to mellow, going quiet and not shifting too much more, and Walter dozes off again within minutes. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Jesse?” Walter asks into the darkness again. 

 

“Muh-Mr. White,” comes the reply, Jesse’s voice small and shivery. “I didn’t mean - I woke up doin’ - I was just tryna get to the middle of the bed.” 

 

Walter reaches out to his right and his hand lands on a bare thigh. “Oh, son…,” is all Walter can think to say, his mind still legging to catch up with whatever it is that’s going on. 

 

There is a distinct warmth pressing and writhing against Walter’s hip and he can feel Jesse breathing hard, humid breaths on his neck. This is not the first time something like this has happened, but it’s still jarring for Walter to process. It has never been to this extent. 

 

Usually Jesse just casually displays his arousal somehow (brushing up against Walter in the RV, sitting in the passenger seat at a particular angle, his thighs spread like an overly proud man riding public transit) and gets worked up and defensive if Walter so much as  _ glances _ at him with an inkling of knowing. He spits venom and huffs and tells Walter to fuck off into the sun for being a fag and storms to his apartment or the nearest closed room like a teenager. 

 

After, they never discuss it. The next day, Jesse is back to normal and Walter refuses to bring it up, and things stay smooth for several days at a time until Jesse tries another sexual gesture and the cycles repeats viciously with little change. 

 

Walter would rather have Jesse blow up in his face, call him a pansy and rattle the beakers in the RV when he slams the door with his sexual frustration radiating like it’s toxic than admit to his budding attraction to Jesse. The attraction being a minute, warm feeling or a gaze that lingers a little longer than it should and is snuffed as soon as Walter realizes what is happening. 

 

It feels predatory. It feels like betrayal. Walter has a wife, after all. Walter is heterosexual, after all.

 

Tonight, it seems they have reached the culmination of these actions. 

 

Walter is snapped back to the moment when Jesse makes a small, needy sound that could easily be a sob, and Walter squeezes the meat of the thigh he’s palming. “It’s alright, Jesse, it’s alright, you know,” he says in a hushed voice, trying to be soothing. It feels like he’s coaxing an untamed animal out from the rain. 

 

Jesse makes another sound and says, “ _ Please _ .” He’s still grinding himself against Walter, thrusting desperately like he might as well be humping a pillow instead of another person. 

 

Walter lets his grip slide off the boy’s thigh and before he can even turn over, Jesse is whimpering, making a rejected noise like he’s been kicked. “I’m not leaving, Jesse.” Walter gets onto his back and shimmies up a bit, so he’s not lying completely flat, head leaned against the wall, so he can squint down at Jesse while whatever is happening happens. He reaches for his glasses and puts them on. 

 

“C’mere.” 

 

Even with his face shadowed, Walter can see Jesse perk up, his eyes unclench, his body less taut, and he slithers up onto Walter, straddling him with his cheek parallel to his chest. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Mr. White,” he says, suddenly seeming to find his voice, “I’m not like, a fairy or a cock jockey or some queer shit like that so don’t  _ think _ I’m fruity for-” 

 

“You’re leaking through your boxers.” 

 

That is enough to shut Jesse up and Walter smiles to himself, smug, and pats the boy’s head. “Don’t be ashamed. It’s a perfectly natural response, especially for your age.” 

 

With his face pressed between Walter’s nipples, Jesse asks, muffled, “Is this gonna be like, a lecture or shit? Because I could do without that when I’m doing the legit most embarrassing thing of my whole life.” 

 

Walter lets his hand slip down to Jesse’s neck, then to the plane of smooth skin flanked by his shoulders and rubs him there, right on the sugar skull he has tattooed. He wonders absently if he’s still dreaming. “I won’t lecture."

 

Jesse's arousal is still prominent and clear, pressed fully to the crook of Walter's thigh, where his leg meets his hip, and the heat is burning. “Then get on with it,” he mumbles. He tries to covertly ruck his boxers down, just below his hips so they’re still clinging to his thighs, but pressed so close, the gesture registers loud and clear: presenting, waiting. 

 

“I think you’re fully capable of ‘getting on with it’ here. Just do what you were doing a moment ago.” 

 

Jesse groans out of annoyance and rolls his hips once. “No way, Mr. White. I’m not gonna be the only homo between us. Whip yours out or something.” 

 

If Jesse could clamp down on his own internalized homophobia, Walter would probably have a full erection by now, but instead his cock lazily throbs through the thin fabric of his sleep pants. He’s not risking the “old man in need of viagra” jokes. “Once you earn it, I will,” is what he says, still caressing the boy, his hand rubbing at his shoulder, the nape of his neck. 

 

Jesse shudders and whines in a way that makes it apparent he's slinking back into a needy, unabashed head space just by that one line. "How the shit am I supposed to earn it, Mr. White? This turn into like, a swim competition suddenly? Gotta paddle goddamn laps around your dick to even get it?" 

 

"Keep talking and you won't earn anything at all." 

 

“God,” Jesse hisses, and his hips roll again, dragging his cock against the little crevice of Walter’s thigh.

 

“That’s better.” Walter can hear House of The Rising Sun playing from the living room and wonders plainly why Jesse didn’t bother to turn off the television before getting into bed. “That’s a good boy, Jesse,” Walter adds, and when Jesse opens his mouth in a silent moan, Walter can smell the wine on his breath. 

 

Jesse must be getting more comfortable with this (or perhaps more desperate) because he’s back to humping again, not slowing his movements, and he isn’t complaining about Walter still being in his slacks. 

 

“No more being childish about this, okay?” Walter whispers into his ear. His hands are racking loosely up and down Jesse’s back, hesitant to let his palms land anywhere below the hips. “Whenever you need - whenever you need release, you come to me, alright?” 

 

“Sure, Mr. White, whatever,” Jesse pants. He’s fisting the silky material of Walter’s shirt by his shoulders, clinging to him like Walter’s a life preserver and he’ll drown if he lets go for a moment. 

 

“And no using,” Walter adds, quick. The thought is sudden and impulsive, but he has leverage now and doesn’t want to miss the opportunity. It seems like Jesse would agree to doing backflips off the Golden Gate so long as Walter promised him an orgasm in the end and he’s not sure if the chance to suggest this again will reappear, not without Jesse being stubborn and unruly in response. 

 

The kid is so pliant, if word got out he acted this submissive in bed, his street name would be Putty. 

 

“Yo, Mr. White, I never agreed to-” 

 

Jesse slaps his mouth shut and whimpers when Walter swats at his ass, hard on the right cheek, his hips shimmying side to side, as though he’s unsure if he dislikes the gesture or not. With his other hand, Walter cups Jesse under the chin and forces him to look up; his eyes so sharply blue yet dazed out, hazy with bliss and apparent in their confusion, their possible rejection of the “punishment”. 

 

“You get the urge to use, you call me,” Walter says, firm. He can feel a creeping blush sliding up his neck like a thin film, but he stays steady in his words. “There isn’t shame in this, Jesse. Just - if you feel an urge, don’t close up on me, right? It’s best for-for both of us, in the long run.” 

 

Jesse grunts. “Meth dealer, co-worker,  _ and _ fuck-buddy for booty calls? When I had you in class, Mr. White, I never figured  _ this _ would be the outcome if we ever-”

 

Another swat and Jesse full on yelps this time, hiking his ass up in the air at the contact and slamming his hips back into Walter. His head droops down to Walter’s chest and he huffs a humid breath. “Cut it out, man!”

 

“It’s this or rehab, so choose wisely,” Walter says. It seems harsh, but there is no bite to his voice, and he gently kneads the swell of Jesse’s ass. “One option seems  _ much _ more palatable than the other, in my opinion.” 

 

Jesse writhes and a thick string of precum puddles on Walter’s thigh. “Fuckin’ -  _ whatever _ , Mr. White, sure, yeah, just get on with this, alright?” 

 

Walter hums an “uhuh-mhm” sound and slips his hand between them, reaching into his sleep pants and sliding his erection out so it glides over the wet length of Jesse’s. 

 

“Oh, fuck yah,” Jesse croons, like this is some porno.

 

Walter makes a low noise and without much idea of how these things are supposed to work (assuming sex with Jesse is different than that with his wife), sets his palms to the subtle curve of Jesse’s hips as he rocks into him. It feels a little claustrophobic and Jesse’s skin is flared with warmth, but Walter is having no trouble letting his pelvis guide him; press himself into Jesse so their cocks sweep over each others at the perfect time. 

 

“You’re doing good, son,” Walter says, his voice soft. “That’s right, Jesse, you’re doing so good.” The words come out of him like second nature, keenly aware of how deeply Jesse seeks any form of validation in their day to day, and with the way Jesse shudders and sputters out little mewls in response, Walter knows it’s desired sexually, too. 

 

“Mr. White,” Jesse gasps at a particularly nice frot. 

 

The space between them is slick and hot now. Jesse has his thighs tensed and he’s mouthing a wet spot into the shoulder of Walter’s shirt like he’s teething. Walter considers kissing him, on the forehead, on the mouth even, but the thought is kicked from him when Jesse chokes and starts babbling. 

 

“Yo, I-I’m gettin’ close here….!” 

 

“Come, then.” 

 

Jesse glances up at Walter and their eyes catch, Jesse’s brows knit together like he’s unfamiliar with this suggestion, unsure if he’s actually allowed to give himself over completely, and Walter nods smally. 

 

“Fuck, Mr. White…” 

 

And with that, Jesse is quivering like he’s freezing to death and Walter feels a new, specific warmth oozing down his front and that is enough to do him in, too, and his head falls back into his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut and biting his tongue, his whole body rigid like a rod. The sheets smell so distinctly like Jesse, Walter cannot imagine anyone else, even without looking. 

 

They both breathe hard for a few moments, chests heaving like metronomes, before Jesse says, “You can let go of me now, you know.” 

 

Walter’s fingers uncurl from Jesse’s hips and lay limply by his sides. “Let me up. I’ll get a cloth to clean you.” 

 

Jesse groans, but complys, rolling off Walter’s front in a dramatic flop. “Hurry up, yo, shit is nasty when it’s cold like this.” 

 

Walter goes to the bathroom and unbuttons his shirt, leaves it on the floor. He cleans himself and brings in a separate warm cloth for Jesse. 

 

He stands in the doorway. Jesse is already out of it, his face soft and sweet, features all slack, his arms spread out like he’s Jesus on the cross. His boxers are half on and with what little moonlight is filtering into the room, Walter can see they have little Superman logos printed on them. 

 

Walter wipes down Jesse’s chest and the boy stirs, one eye creeping open. “Thanks,” he mutters.

 

“Yeah.” Walter leaves the rag on the floor near the bed and crawls in next to Jesse, who curls into him, chest to bare chest. 

 

“Night, Mr. White.” 

 

“Goodnight, Jesse.” 

 

Jesse traces circles into Walter’s shoulder like he’s doodling on a desk. “We ain’t gotta tell anyone about this, right?” 

 

“No, Jesse, this is just another thing between partners.” 

 

And this is enough for Jesse to be soothed, his breath growing shallow and calm within minutes while Walter lies there in the darkness, listening to the television quietly bleat in the next room.

 

They still have until whenever Skyler decides Walter is welcomed back.

 

He could spend a whole week with Jesse. 

 

And of course, there was the matter that they had both agreed this would be the new alternative to getting high. 

 

“You’re a good kid, Jesse,” Walter says. 

 

Jesse says nothing in return, absolutely unmoved in whatever dream he is dreaming, his arm still slung over Walter’s side.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if things seem ooc i havent seen bb in ages 
> 
> don't forget to leave kudos & comments
> 
> talk to me on tumblr @ ficfucker


End file.
